THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE 
SILENT  CHORD 

By 

JOHN    DIMPFL 


1922 

THE    STRATFORD    COMPANY 

Publishers 
BOSTON,    MASSACHUSETTS 


Copyright,  1922 

The   STRATFORD  CO.,  Publishers 
Boston,  Mass. 


The  Alpine  Press,  Boston,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


$50  7 


Contents 

The  Silent  Chord 1 

The  Cry  of  the  Fallen  Woman    ...     3 

Fragments 6 

The  Old  and  the  New 8 

At  the  Gate    .        .        .        .        .        .        .10 

The  Underlings 11 

Which  One? 14 

The  Madonna         .        .        .        .        .        .15 

My  Garden     .        .        .        .        .        .        .17 

The  Poet's  Meaning 18 

Night  Visions 20 

The  Mariner 22 

My  Prayer .24 

Glory  and  Gloom 25 

Thoughts 27 

The  Voices  ......  29 

Alone 31 

Song  of  the  Mountain  Stream        .        .        .32 

Reflections 34 

Man's  Greatness 35 

The  Thinker   .  .  36 


623784 


CONTENTS 

At  Last 37 

Not  in  Vain 39 

Parting 41 

Passing  the  Milestones 43 

"I  Only  Heard  Them  Sing"  .        .        .        .45 

My  Sailor  Boy 46 

Light  in  Darkness 48 

Life's  Windows 50 

In  the  Dark 52 

Suppose 55 

"You"  .  58 


The  Silent  Chord 

I  HEARD  the  song  of  a  merry  lark 
As  it  sang  at  the  break  of  day ; 
And  its  song  was  sweet  as  Aeolian  harp, 
Or  wandering  minstrel's  lay. 

Its  silvery  echoes  rang  out  clear 
Above  the  murmuring  rills, 
And  its  joyous  notes  were  flung  like  dew 
Across  the  age-scarred  hills. 

He  sang  to  his  mate  on  the  alder-bough, 
For  his  little  heart  was  gay ; 
And  the  tremulous  winds  caught  up  his  song 
And  wafted  it  far  away. 

I  cherish  still  those  migrant  strains 
Of  the  sweet  lark's  tender  soul; 
But  I  missed  the  deep,  weird  undertone 
Where  the  waves  of  sorrow  roll. 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 

Perhaps  the  lark  would  have  sweeter  sung, 
Had  it  fluttered  a  bleeding  wing ; 
Or  breathed  some  music,  born  of  pain, 
From  a  heart  with  a  broken  string. 

And  it  may  be  that  the  sweetest  songs 
That  this  old,  sad  world  affords, 
Can  only  come  when  some  hands  unseen 
Sweep  over  its  silent  chords. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


The  Cry  of  the  Fallen  Woman 

u  TT  'MA  WOMAN  of  sin — and  my  home  is  the 

street 
Where  the  virtuous  eye  and  the  painted  face 

meet; 
And  I  ply  my  dark  trade  for  the  price  that  men 

pay, 
For  my  body  must  live !  .  .  .  And  this  seems  a 

fair  way! 
So  you  scorn  my  approach,  since  I've  bartered 

the  best 
That  a  woman  should  prize, — and  you  pass  by 

the  rest 
Of  the  good  there  may  be.     Then  you  hurl  a 

rude  glance 
At  my  shame  and  my  rags,  but  deny  me  a 

chance ! 

'Just  a  woman  of  sin!'    It's  the  mark  that  you 

brand 

On  my  quivering  flesh  with  your  unkindly  hand. 
And  my  soul  that  you  know  not  rebels  at  the 

crime 

[3] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 

That  pushes  me  deeper  down  into  the  slime ! 
The  stigma  is  on  me, — it  glares  like  the  sun, 
It's  the  badge  I  must  wear  till  my  life's  sands 

are  run, 
But  my  soul  in  its  twilight  wants  more  than  a 

glance 
At  my  sin  and  my  wrong, — it  cries  out  for  a 

chance ! 

'She's  a  woman  of  sin!'     And  your  finger  of 

scorn 
Points  me  out  to  the  crowd,  while  it  presses  a 

thorn 
In  my  heart  that  was  once  just  as  sweet  as  a 

rose, — 

But  now  ?    I  'm  an  outcast  whom  nobody  knows ! 
Yet,  I  long  for  the  dawning — oh ! — how  it  has 

grown ! — 
Though  I  live  in  the  Dark  with  my  longing — 

alone! 
And  the  toils  tighten  round,  and  I  see  your 

proud  glance 
As  I  walk  down  the  trail,  beseeching  a  chance ! 

'  Just  a  woman  of  sin ! '    Ah !    I  know  you  don 't 
care! 

[4] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Else  why  do  you  pass  with  your  meaningful 

stare  ? 
Do  you  shun  me  because  there  is  shame  in  my 

face 

That  betrays  me  and  mine  to  your  pitiless  race? 
I've  a  heart  like  your  own,  though  it's  shut 

against  Hope 
By  the  law  that  has  doomed  us  to  stagger  and 

grope 
To  our  desolate  graves,  all  unblessed  with  a 

glance 
That  would  tear  through   the  veil  and  hint: 

'There's  a  chance!' 

'I'm  a  woman  of  sin ! '  And  I'm  fallen,  I  know, — 
But  why  should  your  pride  strike  me  blow  upon 

blow 

When  I  ask  for  your  help,  while  I  go  to  my  end 
Like  a  creature  of  Hell, — denied  even  a  friend  ? 
Yet,  perhaps,  there's  a  star  all  ashine  in  the 

skies 
"Which  I  fail  to  behold  'cause  the  mist's  in  my 

eyes, 
And, — it  may  be — your  God — will  bestow  me  a 

glance 
And  give  what  I  ask  of  you — only  a  chance ! 

[5] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 


Fragments 

A  LITTLE  song  of  deathless  Hope 
That  sings  above  Earth's  roar:— 
An  echo  of  a  higher  strain 
From  out  a  distant  shore. 

A  little  rift  of  wandering  light 
Steals  through  the  night 's  wild  storm ; 
And  then  the  flight  of  shattered  clouds, 
And  splendor  of  the  morn ! 

A  little  garden-blossom  held 
Before  some  paling  eye, 
To  cast  around  the  shadowed  soul 
Some  beauty  of  the  sky. 

A  little  wreath  of  tender  love 
Upon  the  altar-stairs ; 
A  token  from  some  friendly  one, 
A  voice  that  breathes:  "God  cares!" 


[6] 


A  little  bit  of  waiting  here 
And  lo !    The  tide  flows  out — 
And  then — the  harbor's  silver  gleam 
And  the  boatman's  welcome  shout ! 

A  little  glint  of  sunshine  bright 
Upon  a  tuft  of  grass ; 
And  myriad  memories  upspring 
To  greet  me  as  I  pass ! 


[7] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 


The  Old  and  the  New 

Going  from  me ! 

Going! — To  drift  far  away  in  the  Night 
Like  a  ship  with  a  broken  mast ; 
Silently,  slowly,  to  mingle  his  dust 
With  the  things  of  a  crumbled  past ! 

Coming  to  me ! 

Coming! — To  turn,  with  his  dreamy  eyes 
Towards  the  hills  that  beckon  and  call : 
Slowly  and  silently  setting  his  stars 
In  the  Old  Year's  shroud  and  pall! 

Going  from  me ! 

Going ! — With  memory  at  his  side 
Over  the  Seas  of  Time! 
Bidding  farewell  with  a  trembling  voice 
As  his  hands  slip  away  from  mine ! 

Coming  to  me ! 

Coming ! — With  Hope  to  point  him  the  way 
Toward  the  land  that  is  to  be ; 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Lifting  his  dawn-lit  face  to  the  skies, 
And  calling  to  you  and  to  me ! 

Going — and  Coming! 
Going ! — and  never  to  come  again ; 
Coming! — and  waiting  to  go; 
Death  in  the  cold  of  the  wintry-night, 
Life  in  the  morning-glow! 


[9] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 


At  the  Gate 

I  CALLED  thee  once,  dear  heart, 
But  thou  didst  bid  me  wait; 
And  so,  I  knelt  and  prayed, 
While  thou  didst  gently  bar 
Love 's  golden-portalled  Gate ! 

I  called  thee  once  again, — 
Like  bird  that  seeks  its  mate ; 
But  still  I  saw  thee  stand 
And  list  each  word, — but  deign 
No  answer  through  the  Gate ! 

And  still  I  called,  because 
I  knew  thou  didst  not  hate ; 
And  then  I  saw  thee  smile, 
And  whisper  sweet, — and  lo ! 
I  stood  within  the  Gate ! 


[10] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


The  Underlings 

I  WOULD  sing  of  the  fights  that  are  fought, 
not  on  heights, 

But  on  plains  that  are  reeking  with  mud; 
Where    the    woe    of    the    world,    like    God's 

Vengeance,  is  hurled 

On  the  lives  that  are  cursed  in  their  blood ; 
Where  the  battle  for  Life  wounds  and  stabs 

like  a  knife 

And  the  Doomed  never  have  a  real  chance, 
Where  they  stagger  and  die  'neath  an  insolent 

sky 
And  plead  for  a  pitying  glance ! 

But  I  can 't  sing  it  out,  when  the  Rabble 's  weird 

shout 

Never  breaks  like  a  knell  in  my  room, 
And  my  eyes  never  see  all  the  brute  misery 
That  gives  birth  to  their  unlifted  Gloom; 
I   may    picture    their    Pain    and    their    deep- 
smothered  Shame 
And  the  Tale  of  the  their  travail  and  wrong, — 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 

But  I  don 't  know  the  half,  all  the  dross  and  the 

chaff, — 
So  I  stifle  the  strain  of  my  song. 

If  I  supped  with  these  men,  in  the  dark  of  their 
pen, 

On  a  hard  crust  of  beggarly  bread ; 

And  beheld  their  eyes  dim,  as  in  squalor  and  sin 

They  cried  by  their  cold,  sheeted  Dead, 

Then,  perhaps,  I  could  sing  of  the  poor  Under 
ling, 

Could  echo  each  sigh  and  each  sob ; 

Till  there 'd  spring  into  Life  from  their  hovels 
of  vice, 

A  Voice  that  would  yearn  up  to  God ! 

If  I  lived  through  the  scenes  that  have  shattered 

the  dreams 

Of  the  men  who  are  made  in  our  flesh : — 
If  I  saw  them  grown  mute,  like  the  hard-driven 

brute, 

Held  a  slave  in  the  Toils  of  the  Mesh : — 
I  could  sing  a  wild  song  for  the  cavilling  throng, 
And  cause  the  proud  Worlding  to  hear, 
For  at  last  I  would  know  the  dark  Things  of 

Life's  Show 
And  how  Laughter  dies  out  in  a  Tear ! 

[12] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 

So  we  think  it  all  out, — all  the  woes  of  the 

rout, — 

All  the  achings  and  all  of  the  Shame — 
And  the  fears  and  the  sobs  of  the  brutalized 

mobs, 
As  they're  moved, — just  blind  Pawns  in  the 

Game, — 
But  the  songs  that  we  sing  won't  have  the  right 

ring 

Till  we  live  it  all  out  with  each  Slave 
Who  is  ushered  through  Birth  to  a  Curse  upon 

Earth 
And  then  sentenced  for  Life  to  .        .a  Grave ! 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 


Which  One? 

I  SAW  her  pass  in  the  hurrying  throng, 
A  woman,  pure,  serene — 
A  form  cast  in  the  mould  of  God, 
And  a  face  of  which  men  dream ! 

And  then  there  passed  another  one, 
Once  scarred  by  sin 's  dark  trace, — 
But,  oh !  The  glow  of  God  within 
Wrote  glory  on  her  face ! 

And  as  I  gazed,  I  prayed  for  her 
Whose  heart  was  still  kept  sweet, 
But  longer  for  the  soul  whose  home 
Was  once  the  sin-swept  street  ? 

And  still  I  wonder,  if  the  one 
Who  never  dwelt  with  sin, 
Knew  joy  and  peace  so  sweet  as  she 
Who  walked  through  death  to  Him ! 


[14] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


The  Madonna 

"T~  T'S  A  face  God  must  love,  for  it  seems  like 

a  prayer 
Carved  in  beauty  and  grace, — and  those  lips 

must  have  prest 

All  a  mother's  deep  longings  and  infinite  hopes 
On  the  lips  of  the  baby  asleep  on  that  breast ! 
I  have  gazed  into  eyes  glowing  warm  with  a 

love 
That's  beyond  all  compare  with  the  dross  of  the 

earth, 
But  these  eyes  seem  to  hold  a  more  marvelous 

joy 
That  was  born  when  that  tiny  soul  leaped  into 

birth ! 

It's  a  glorified  face, — with  the  dreams  of  the 

hearts 

Of  all  womankind  graven  in  features  of  light, 
And  the  halo  that  burns  round  the  mother  and 

child 
Seems  like  smile  of  some  angel  all  hidden  from 

sight ! 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 

'A  Madonna'  you  call  it !    And  yet  as  I  gaze 
I  behold  but  a  woman, — anointed  to  reign 
With  the  sceptre  of  motherhood  over  a  life, 
And  to  bear  in  her  face  the  deep  symbols  of 
pain! 

Such  face  I  have  seen  on  a  mother  bent  low 
O'er  a  little  one,  born  with  a  name, — and  no 

more; 
I  have  seen  it  where  wealth  with  its  largess  of 

gold 
Gave  a  boon  when  some  baby-craft  crept  to 

life 's  shore ; 
For  God  crowns  with  his  glory  each  mother 

who  walks 
With  the  Angel  of  Love  through  the  Valley  of 

Pain, 
And  He  names  them  'Madonnas', — who  smile 

upon  death 
To  bring  life  and  its  raptures  back  with  them 

again ! ' ' 


[16] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


My  Garden 

IT'S  JU;ST  a  strip  of  soft  brown  earth, 
Where  lights  and  shadows  play; 
And  flowers  wake  in  silent  birth 
To  bless  each  passing  day. 

It's  just  a  modest,  little  home 
Touched  soft  with  charm  and  grace, — 
But  love  and  I  claim  it  our  own, 
Our  hallowed  trysting-place. 

It's  just  a  sweet  and  calm  retreat 
Removed  from  busy  mart, — 
The  shrine  that  stays  my  hasting  feet— 
The  Garden  of  her  heart. 


[17] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 


The  Poet's  Meaning 

I   SCANNED  one  day,  some  vagrant  lines 
Of  an  unknown  poet's  hand, 
But  as  I  read,  I  failed  to  see 
Why  men  should  call  them  grand. 

'Twas  a  bit  of  homely  commonplace, 
Untouched  by  art's  true  skill, 
And  I  missed  the  subtle  magic  charm 
Of  words  that  burn  and  thrill. 

So  I  cast  aside  the  poet's  verse, 
As  an  idle  piece  of  rhyme, 
And  I  said  his  words  would  never  last, 
But  die  with  the  Things  of  Time. 

Long  after  years,  I  read  again 
The  lines  I  had  once  despised, 
While  a  something  new  thrilled  through  my 

soul, 
And  I  stood  like  a  child  surprised. 


[18] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 

For  the  words  no  longer  seemed  to  be 
Devoid  of  charm  and  power ; 
For  the  poet's  soul  was  bared  to  me 
In  that  strange  and  wondrous  hour. 

I  feel  that  a  spirit  spoke  to  mine 

From  out  of  the  silent  years ; 

That  a  brother-man  had  learned  through  Pain, 

The  Meaning  of  Life 's  tears. 

As  I  read  again  the  living  words 
On  his  transfigured  page, 
I  thought  of  the  hidden,  timeless  things 
That  never  fade  nor  age. 

The  form  of  the  vagrant  verse  no  more 
Seemed  crude  before  my  eye, 
For  a  Voice  was  speaking  out  of  the  Past 
A  Truth  that  could  not  die. 

And,  ever  since,  when  I  scan  the  lines 
Of  the  poets  who  cross  my  way, 
I  think  of  the  soul  that  spoke  to  mine 
In  that  verse  of  a  fleeting  Day. 


[19] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 


Night  Visions 

HAVE  you  stood  in  the  streets  of  the  old 
grey  town, 

When  the  sun  had  died  in  the  West, 
And  the  Angel  of  Night  kept  sentinel-watch 
O  'er  a  world  that  had  gone  to  rest  ? 

Did  you  think  of  the  blatant  sin  that  lurks 
Where  the  dread  night-shadows  dwell; 
How  its  fastens  its  fangs  on  body  and  soul 
And  tortures  its  victims  for  Hell  ? 

There  came  to  you  then  no  plaintive  wail 
Of  children  who  cried  for  bread? 
And  you  saw  no  vision  of  trembling  hands 
That  toiled  until  they  bled  ? 

Your  ears  heard  naught  of  the  hopeless  laugh 
Of  the  souls  that  wallow  in  shame ; 
And  bury  deep  in  the  jungle  of  sin 
Their  womanhood  and  their  name? 


[20] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Beneath  those  shadowed  midnight  roofs 
Crushed  hope  lies  covered  deep ; 
And  there  despair  holds  men  in  thrall, 
And  there  the  women  weep ! 

You  did  not  deem  such  things  could  be 
In  a  world  so  fair  and  bright! 
But  the  old  grey  town  could  tell  you  more 
Of  these  visions  of  the  Night ! 


[21] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 


The  Mariner 

OUT  of  the  calm  of  childhood  days, 
Through  the  stress  and  storms  of  youth, 
I've  sailed  across  life's  weary  Main 
In  the  quest  for  God  and  Truth ; 
Alone  with  hope  in  my  storm-tossed  boat, 
I  cling  to  a  riven  mast, 
But  the  headland  gleams  through  the  lifting 

gloom, 
And  my  ship  will  anchor  at  last. 

Dark  nights  have  followed  darker  days, 

When  fever  flushed  my  brow ; 

And  Death  oft  spoke  through  my  wind-torn 

sails 

As  I  stood  by  my  vessel 's  prow ; 
But  still  I  ride  on  the  crest  of  the  sea 
"With  a  heart  unnerved  by  fear, 
For  the  headland  gleams  through  the  lifting 

gloom, 
And  the  haven  of  rest  draws  near. 


[22] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Fierce  doubts  and  wild  confusions  bore 

Me  from  my  chosen  track  j 

And  progress  oft  was  stayed  by  the  gales 

That  ever  beat  me  back; 

But  still  across  the  moaning  Deep, 

I  see  the  lure  of  a  light, 

For  the  headland  gleams  through  the  lifting 

gloom, 
And  the  harbor  is  now  in  sight. 

And  thus  I  sail  toward  the  rising  sun, 

While  the  breakers  roar  in  my  ears. 

But  the  raging  waters  will  soon  be  calmed, 

When  the  longed-for  day  appears ; 

And  a  voice  will  call  from  the  distant  shore 

Beyond  the  surging  sea, 

Where  the  headland  gleams  through  the  lifting 

gloom 
And  the  Master  waits  for  me. 


[23] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 


My  Prayer 

LET  me  think  the  thoughts  that  shall  make 
my  life 

A  blessing  to  the  world ; 
The  thoughts  that  shall  help  to  banish  hate, 
Where  the  battle  flag's  unfurled. 

Let  me  speak  the  words  that  shall  wing  their 
way, 

Like  angels  o  'er  the  earth ; 
The  words  that  shall  put  on  pilgrim-lips 

The  song  of  heroic  mirth. 

Let  me  do  the  deeds  that  shall  breath  the  Love 

Of  Him  who  wrought  for  men ; 
The  deeds  that  shall  turn  some  erring  steps 

To  the  Father's  House  again. 

Let  me  be  in  thought,  and  word,  and  deed 

The  man  I  ought  to  be ; 
A  friend  to  all,  a  slave  of  none, 

Courageous,  true,  and  free ! 


[24] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


Glory  and  Gloom 

ATHENS!    I  love  to  breathe  thy  deathless 
name, 

And  dwell  in  thought  upon  thy  past  renown ! 
The  sun  still  smiles  upon  thy  girdling  hills, 
And  over  all, — The  witchery  of  thy  skies ! 
But  fled  thy  holy  festal  days,  when  sound 
Of  tabret  sweet  and  revelry  made  music 
In  Thy  streets.    Thy  colonnades  in  regal 
Ruin :  Thy  sculptured  friezes  wrought  by  skill ; 
Thy  Porches  where  Proud  Wisdom  reared  its 

thrones ; — 

Still  lure  the  Pilgrim  to  Thy  classic  shrines. 
In  silence  wrapt,  the  eloquence  that  held 
The  world  in  thrall!     Withered  the  garlands, 

wreathed 

On  brows  that  boasted  of  their  heritage, 
And  triumphs   of  the   mind !     Mute  now  thy 

lyres, 
And  touched  by  Time,  Thy  Grandeur  and  Thy 

Pride ! 

[25] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 

And  yet,  0  City  by  the  Sea,  Thou  broods 't 
O'er  Thy  past,  and  garbed  in  cerements  of  the 

Dead, 
Still  smiles  in  Glory  'mid  Thy  Ancient  Ruins ! 


[26] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


Thoughts 

Vnr^WAS  only  a  cluster  of  violets  blue 

j      That   peeped   through   the   grasses   and 

smiled  into  view, 
But  each  modest  bloom  as   'twas  gathered  by 

me 
Was  a  thought  from  my  Garden  of  Love  sent 

to  Thee ! 

Twas  only  a  cluster  of  violets  sweet, 
That  I  garnered  one  dawn  in  a  sylvan  retreat, 
Where  they  laughed  all  their  blue  at  the  low- 
bending  sky, 
And  babbled  thy  name  to  the  winds  passing  by. 

'Twas  only  a  cluster  of  violets  mild, 

That  I  plucked  as  I  roamed  through  the  tangle- 
wood  wild ; 

I  bound  them  with  maiden-hair — Those  blooms 
kissed  with  dew, 

And  breathed  in  their  souls  a  sweet  message  for 
you. 

[27] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 

'Twas  only  a  cluster  of  violets  shy, 

That  gazed  with  Love's  Tenderness  into  her  eye, 

Till  they  both  lost  themselves  in  the  far-distant 

days, 
And  wandered  together  beside  the  Dream-ways. 

'Tis  only  a  cluster  of  violets  dead, 

That  withered  and  paled  till  their  beauty  had 

fled; 
But  they  smiled  as  they  died,  and  their  souls 

drew  apart 
To  silently  bloom  in  the  love  of  Thy  heart. 


[28] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


The  Voices 

I  THOUGHT  I  was  cursed  as  I  turned  to  the 
world 

With  its  mingling  of  joy  and  of  strife, 
And  asked  it  that  Sibylline  question  of  old, — 
The  end  and  the  meaning  of  Life ! 
Then  a  voice  spoke  to  me  in  a  plaintive  strain, 
And  whispered  this  word 
That  my  soul  deeply  stirred : — • 
"The  Heart  of  all  Life  is  — Pain!" 

In  sorrow  I  turned  to  a  child  at  its  play, 

And  I  smiled  at  its  innocent  glee ; 

'Did  Life  look  the  same  to  its  far-gazing  eyes, 

As  it  did  to  my  soul  and  to  me  f ' 

Then  a  voice  that  was  free  from  the  griefs  that 

annoy, 

Repeated  this  song, 
In  notes  sweet  and  long — 
' '  The  Heart  of  all  Life  is —  Joy ! " 

I  stood  by  the  bier  of  a  friend  whose  smile 
"Would  answer  no  more  to  my  own ; 

[29] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 

"Oh!  Tell  me  the  meaning  of  Life?"  I  cried, 

"Is  it  always  a  tear  and  a  moan?" 

Then  I  heard  in  the  Silence  a  wail  from  a  Cross, 

And  I  caught  a  deep  sigh 

As  the  Cross  passed  me  by : — 

' '  The  Heart  of  all  Life  is  -         -  Loss ! ' ' 

Unsatisfied  still,  I  spoke  to  a  saint, 

As  with  staff  he  hobbled  along ; 

His  faith-touched  face  transfigured  shone, 

And  his  lips  broke  into  song ; 

And  as  he  passed  with  a  cheerful  nod, 

I  heard  this  strain 

Of  the  song  he  sang : — 

' '  The  Heart  of  all  Life  is God ! " 


[30] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


Alone! 

IT  CAME  to  me  in  the  gloaming  hour, — 
That  sob  of  a  woman's  heart, 
And  I  wondered  why  she  wept  alone, 
And  why  her  tears  did  start ! 

Perhaps  some  Sorrow,  voicing  Pain 
Had  crossed  her  humble  floor; 
Or,  the  Darker  Presence,  silent,  gaunt, 
"Was  waiting  by  her  door ! 

It  may  have  been  that  the  quiet  room 
Where  she  knelt  in  prayer  apart, 
Held  naught  but  a  Love,  long  since  betrayed, 
And  the  bits  of  a  broken  heart. 

But  whatever  the  grief  that  brought  to  me 
That  mournful  cry  and  groan, — 
I  prayed  that  Heaven  would  bless  the  prayer 
Of  the  woman  who  wept  alone! 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 


Song  of  the  Mountain-Stream 

I  SPRING  from  the  heart  of  the  noiseless  hills, 
Where  the  clouds  sweep  down  at  night, 
And  the  stars  enflame  their  silent  peaks 
With  a  coronal  of  light. 

God-born,  I  leaped  from  the  rock-ribbed  slope, 
And  the  ageless  spirit  smiled 
As  He  sent  me  forth  to  the  valley-deeps 
By  the  trail  of  the  forest-wild. 

To  the  men  who  hear,  my  urgent  voice 
Speaks  clear  as  trumpet-tones, 
And  there 's  music  bold  in  my  waters  cold, 
And  a  sob  in  my  stifled  moans. 

I  sing  of  the  great  eternal  things,  — 
Of  mingled  joys  and  pains, — 
And  I  bring  to  the  busy  haunts  of  men 
The  echo  of  timeless  strains. 


[32] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 

I  bound  with  a  roar  from  dizzy  heights, 
And  my  song  grows  loud  and  wild, — 
I  flow  where  the  quiet  shadows  sleep 
And  I  babble  again  as  a  child. 

And  ever  I  flow  toward  the  unknown  years, 
By  market  and  hamlets  and  mills, 
But  the  song  I  sing  has  the  musical  ring 
Of  the  lays  of  my  native  hills. 


[33] 


THE  SILENT  CHOED 


Reflections 

A  STAR  bent  low  o'er  a  purling  brook 
That  slept  in  a  sheltered  glade, 
And  the  little  star  smiled  as  he  saw  his  soul 
In  the  face  of  the  brook  displayed. 

The  sun  shone  down  on  a  lone  dew-drop 
That  nestled  within  a  flower; 
And  the  sun  was  glad  when  the  dew-drop  smiled 
From  the  heart  of  its  fragrant  bower. 

God  looked  one  day  on  a  human  soul, — 

A  thing  of  radiance,  fair, 

And  the  Sculptor's  joy  broke  through  his  face 

As  He  saw  His  Image  there. 


[34] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


Man's  Greatness 

I  FOLLOWED,     wonderingly,     the    fearless 
flight 

Of  mountain-eagle,  as  on  wings  outspread 
It  mounted  toward  the  vaulted  skies  o'erhead. 
Its  falcon  eyes  flashed  fire,  when  each  height, — 
Effulgent  with  the  glow  of  dawning  light, — 
It  swiftly  scaled,  while  shadow-like  it  sped 
Along  its  lonely  way  without  a  dread, 
As  if  those  skies  were  his  by  native  right. 

I  cannot  soar  as  he,  so  high  and  far, 
Because  God's  chaos-ordering  voice  decreed 
That  I  should  walk,  and  he  should  mount  and 

fly; 

And  yet  my  thought  outstrips  the  farthest  Star, 
And  Mind,  that  makes  immortal  every  deed, 
Proclaims  me  more  than  bird  in  yonder  sky. 


[35] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 


The  Thinker 

THY  TITAN  mind  doth  blaze  Truth's  flam 
ing  way 

For  thy  less  gifted  kin,  while  free  from  Fear 
Speeds    forth    thy    thought,    high    Heaven's 

Pioneer, — 

To  usher  in  the  "World's  long-promised  Day. 
Life's  baffling  mysteries  their  challenge  lay 
Upon  thy  restless  Heart,  as  draweth  near 
God's  mystical  concealments,  shining  clear 
Above  Earth's  blinding  mists  and  clouded  fray. 

Time-born  as  we,  yet  cast  in  finer  mould. — 
Truth's   Passion   flames   within   thy   brooding 

eyes, 

And  worlds  are  born  at  thy  divine  mandate. 
And  from  our  lower  peaks,  on  pinions  bold, 
Thy    Thought    doth    soar   among   untraversed 

skies, 
While  we  the  burden  of  thy  vision  wait ! 


[36] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


At  Last 

reddening  skies  blush  with  the  Dawn, 
I  hear  the  birds'  sweet  trill; 
And  echoing  murmurs  come  to  me 
From  river  and  from  rill. 
But  well  I  know  the  day  will  die 
Like  song  of  heaven 's  lark, 
And  o'er  the  dusky  woods  will  glide 
The  shadows  and  the  dark. 

With  burdened  wings,  the  gloom  of  night 

Sweeps  over  hill  and  dale ; 

And  in  the  darkening  skies  I  see 

The  lightning's  blazoned  trail. 

But  well  I  know  those  wrathful  clouds 

Will  pass  with  midnight's  storm, 

And  God  will  bring  to  me  again, 

The  shining  of  the  morn. 

And  thus  the  lights  and  shadows  blend 
To  kindle  Faith's  dull  spark; 
And  Darkness  flares  into  the  Dawn, 
And  Dawn  fades  into  Dark. 

[37] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 

So  let  me  trust,  till  God  at  last 

Will  make  it  clear  to  me, 

Why  Pain  and  Pleasure,  Joy  and  Gloom 

Must  ever  mingled  be. 


[38] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


Not  in  Vain 

NO  THOUGHTS  of  his  sped  through  the 
clouds 

Like  flaming  meteors, 
Nor  opened  wide  to  yearning  hearts, 

Life's  barred  and  mystic  doors. 
And  yet  he  did  not  live  in  vain 

Amid  our  darkened  woes, 
For  in  each  soul  where  grew  a  thorn, 
He  planted  there  a  rose. 

He  spoke  no  words  of  magic  spell, 

Nor  rode  the  crest  of  fame ; 
And  men,  because  they  knew  him  not, 

Passed  by  his  humble  name. 
And  yet  with  aching  eyes  he  saw 

Some  souls  their  thorns  disclose, 
And  Pain-racked  hearts  grew  glad  as  he 

Bent  down  to  plant  a  rose. 

He  did  no  bold,  heroic  act 

That  called  for  meed  of  praise ; 

[39] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 

He  only  lived  a  common  life, 
And  walked  in  quiet  ways ; 

And  yet  in  many  a  hallowed  spot 
His  memory  burns  and  glows, 

Because  he  plucked  a  wayside  thorn, 
And  planted  there  a  rose. 


[40] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


Parting 

I    SAW  thee  step  from  the  sandy  beach 
And  sail  far  away  from  me, 
And  the  waters  slept  as  I  sped  my  prayer 
Toward  thy  little  boat  and  thee ; 
And  the  night  bent  down  as  I  watched  and 

prayed 

My  vigil  upon  the  shore, 

While  thou  didst  creep  down  the  silent  stream 
In  the  boat  with  the  muffled  oar! 

I  saw  thee  pass  through  the  twilight  haze 

And  sail  toward  the  flooding  sea, 

And  the  night-wind  caught  my  pleading  cry 

And  wafted  it  out  to  thee! 

And  its  broken  notes  filled  the  brooding  sky, 

Then  they  fell  and  were  no  more ; 

But  the  ripples  slept  on  the  silent  stream 

And  still  was  the  muffled  oar ! 

I  saw  thee  stand  in  the  vessel's  prow, 
And  gaze  toward  the  sunset  sea; 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 

But  thou  didst  not  know  that  thy  tiny  craft 

Was  carrying  my  heart  from  me ; 

And  alone  I  weep  in  my  loneliness 

As  I  did  in  the  days  of  yore, 

But  thou  must  sail  down  the  silent  stream 

In  the  boat  with  the  muffled  oar ! 

I  saw  thee  turn  as  the  starlight  paled 

Above  thy  boat  and  thee ; 

And  it  seemed  I  saw  a  tear-drop  fall 

Empearled  with  thy  agony ; 

And  I  called  as  the  shadows  seemed  to  lift 

When  the  night  toward  morning  wore ; 

But  thou  hadst  passed  down  the  silent  stream 

In  the  boat  with  the  muffled  oar ! 


[42] 


Passing  the  Milestones 

I'VE  BORNE  the  heat  of  the  summer's  sun, 
And  the  cold  of  Winter 's  snows, 
And  I've  faced  the  Death  of  Fever's  blight, 
Where  the  wind  of  the  Desert  blows ; 
And  oft  I  've  stood  on  the  dizzy  crags 
Where  the  vultures  scream  and  moan, 
But  still  I'm  glad, — for  the  milestones  tell 
That  I'm  coming  nearer  home! 

The  mountains,  seared  by  age  and  storm, 

Still  hang  above  my  trail, 

And  my  laggard  feet  climb  up  their  slopes, 

And  seek  the  heights  to  scale ; 

And  though  I  leave  a  crimson  mark 

On  the  path  I  walk  alone, 

The  passing  milestones  cheer  me  up 

For  I'm  marching  on  toward  home ! 

My  eager  heart  outstrips  my  feet, 
My  eyes  fill  up  with  tears, 
And  memory  brings  me  back  again 
The  friends  of  former  years ; 

[43] 


And  so  I  gird  my  loins  anew 
And  vow  I  '11  no  more  roam, 
For  every  milestone  that  I  pass 
Is  bringing  me  back  home ! 


[44] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


"I  Only  Heard  Them  Sing" 

SWEET,  sweet  were  the  notes  of  the  morning 
lark 

As  he  sang  by  the  gurgling  rills ; 
And  sweet  was  the  song  of  the  captive  bird 
As  he  pined  for  his  morn-kissed  hills ! 

But  I  could  not  tell  which  song  was  best 
In  their  mingled  melody ; 
But  I  know  that  the  blended  songs  I  heard 
Held  a  holy  charm  for  me ! 

So  I  did  not  praise  the  lark's  sweet  song 
Nor  think  of  the  fettered  wing 
Of  the  bird  that  pined  in  its  gilded  cage : — 
I  only  heard  them  sing ! 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 


My  Sailor  Boy 

FEOM  the  throbbing  heart  of  the  restless  sea, 
The  surging  tide  creeps  up  to  me, 
Anl  I  seem  to  hear  in  its  anguished  wail, 
The  requiem-song  of  the  storm  and  gale. 

With  faith  undimmed,  my  vigil  I  keep 
For  my  bonnie  lad  far  out  on  the  deep ; 
But  my  mist-filmed  eyes  have  hungry  grown 
For  the  brave,  bright  boy  who  left  me  alone. 

I  can  see  him  now  as  he  waved  his  hand, 
When  his  vessel  slipped  from  the  sobbing  sand, 
And  the  voice  that  broke  in  its  last  farewell 
Seems  breathed  o'er  the  waste  of  the  ocean's 
swell. 

The  proud  ships  sail  o  'er  the  moaning  deep, 
And  into  the  night-clouds  silently  creep ; 
But  where  is  the  boy  who  sailed  away 
In  the  early  dawn  of  a  cloudless  day? 

[46] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Unbroken  the  silence  of  all  the  years 

By  the  surge  that  strikes  on  my  deafened  ears, 

For  the  high-souled  lad  who  sailed  o'er  the 

main 
Might  never  return  to  me  again ! 

The  wind  sweeps  in  from  the  wild,  wild  sea, 
But  my  sailor-boy  comes  not  to  me; 
And  yet  I  wait,  I  know  not  why, 
While  my  sad  heart  echoes  his  last  good-bye ! 

I  feel  the  hot  tear  start  from  the  eye, 
When  the  stately  ships  go  sailing  by, 
And  I  think  in  the  haze  of  the  sunset-glow 
Of  the  boy  who  left  me  long  ago. 

Oh !  Waves !  That  beat  and  surge  on  the  shore, 
Will  my  night  of  waiting  be  never  o'er? 
Oh !  Speak  to  my  heart,  ye  Silent  Sea, 
And  bring  back  my  long-lost  boy  to  me ! 


[47] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 


Light  in  Darkness 

THE  PILGRIM  stood  by  the  silent  grave 
Of  one  who  had  ceased  to  be, 
And  pondered  the  meaning  of  life  and  death 
And  Immortality. 

His  soul  cried  out  for  a  glimmering  truth 
That  would  quiet  his  anxious  fears, 
And  lift  the  sable  cloud  of  grief 
And  stay  his  falling  tears. 

And  as  he  thought  of  loved  ones  gone 
Beyond  the  heart's  recall, 
He  thrust  this  question  'gainst  the  skies; 
"Is  Death  the  end  of  all?" 

Then  said  a  violet, — "A  tiny  seed, 
I  dwelt  in  a  home  of  gloom, 
Till  the  Master  pushed  the  clods  away 
And  called  me  forth  to  bloom." 


[48] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 

And  the  Birds  replied, — ''There's  a  sunny  clime 
Where  the  winter-winds  ne'er  blow, 
But  we  never  seek  those  Southern  skies, 
Till  our  Father  bids  us  go. ' ' 

Then  an  angel  spoke, — "All  list  to  me 
When  I  bid  them  cease  their  strife ! 
They  call  me  Death,  for  my  face  is  veiled, 
But  God  has  named  me  Life." 

And  that  is  why  the  violets  bloom, 
And  the  sky  is  filled  with  song, 
And  the  deathless  Angel  stands  by  the  grave 
And  says  to  Faith, — "Be  strong!" 


[49] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 


Life's  Windows 

I  DID  not  know  if  my  lips  should  frame 
A  song,  or  a  broken  sigh, 
As  I  gazed  upon  the  jostling  crowd 
And  the  faces  passing  by ! 

I  saw  the  face  of  a  guileless  babe, 

As  pure  as  the  driven  snow ; 

And  I  wondered  if  aught  of  wrong  and  shame, 

Its  untried  soul  would  know. 

I  saw  the  face  of  a  pilgrim  old 
And  the  sunset  glow  was  there ; 
It  seemed,  he  longed  to  be  at  rest 
And  away  from  a  world  of  care. 

I  saw  a  face  whose  rugged  lines 

"Were  lost  in  the  passing  throng ; 

'Twas  the  face  of  one  who  toiled  for  his  bread 

But  sang  as  he  swept  along ! 


[So] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 

I  saw  a  face  of  brooding  hate, 
And  Death  dwelt  in  the  eye ; 
And  as  it  passed,  I  raised  my  voice 
In  an  urgent,  warning  cry. 

I  saw  a  face  all  seamed  and  torn 

With  the  touch  of  a  brutal  strife ; 

And  I  knew  that  something  forever  had  gone 

From  out  of  that  shadowed  life ! 

And  so  the  faces  passed  me  by, 
Some  good;  some  sad;  some  bold; 
But  I  failed  to  question  as  I  watched, 
The  story  my  face  told. 


[Si] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 


In  the  Dark 

"TT THERE   is   God?     I   have    asked   it   a 

\\  hundred  times  o'er, 

When  I  pleaded  in  vain  at  some  fellowman's 

door 
For  a  word  that  would  ease  me  a  bit  of  my 

load, 
Or  give  cheer  to  my  heart  down  the  long,  lonely 

road; 
I  have  asked  it  when  men  roughly  pushed  me 

aside, 
With  a  sneer  at  the  rags  that  I  tried  hard  to 

hide, 
Yet,   unfriended,   I   tramp    through   the   wide 

world  alone, 
And  God  Himself  seems  sort  of  hard  on  His 

own. 

Yes!     It  may  be,  I'm  craven,  and  lacking  the 

stuff 
Which  compels  souls  to  sing  when  the  wayside 

is  rough ; 

[52] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 

And  it  may  be  unkind  to  give  up  loving  God 
When  your  Hope 's  trampled  down  like  a  waste 

bit  of  clod! 
But  it  tries  one's  best  Faith  when  the  World 

passes  by 
And  your  kindred  don 't  care  if  you  live  or  you 

die; 
And  it  cuts  like  a  knife  when  you  meet  with  a 

frown 
From  the  ones  who  won 't  help  you  to  rise  when 

you're  down! 

There  are  times  when  it  seems  that  the  beauti 
ful  songs 
Of  the  birds  breathe  a  hush  o'er  the  world's 

stinging  wrongs, 

And  the  river  that  babbles  it's  way  to  the  sea 
Sings  a  song  filled  with  Hope  that  is  meant  just 

for  me ; 
Then   they    go    into    silence, — those    voices    so 

sweet, 
Like  the  roses  that  wither  and  die  'round  my 

feet, 
Then  I  think  of  how  men  have  disdained  me  a 

nod 
When  I  prayed  for  their  help  and  the  smile  of 

their  God! 

[53] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 

I'm  a  vagabond  tramp,  and  I'll  trudge  o'er  the 

Earth 
Till  I've  lived   out  the   days   of  my  unlifted 

Curse ; 
Yet  my  heart  isn't  dead — though  I  cry  with  a 

hate 
That  burns  hot  against  all  who  have  brought 

me  my  fate ; 
There's  a  tiny  spark  left  in  the  soul  that  they 

scorn 
And    I'm    bruised    by    their    blows    and    left 

hardened  and  worn, 
But,  perhaps,  when  the  long  fight's  a  thing  of 

the  past, 
The  clouds  may  depart  —  and  I'll  see  God  at 

last!" 


[54] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


Suppose ! 

UPPOSE  that  the  world  in  its  open  hands 

Held  only  two  prizes  rare,  — 
And  your  heart  could  choose  but  only  one 
Of  the  tempting  gifts  held  there ! 
Suppose  that  the  one  was  a  woman's  love, 
And  the  other  great  wealth  untold; 
Would  you  grasp  at  love  as  the  better  gift, 
Or  ask  for  the  hoard  of  gold? 

Suppose  that  your  soul  was  lured  by  the  dream 

And  the  gleam  of  the  glittering  prize ; 

While  the  love  shone  bright  through  a  mist  of 

tears 

In  a  woman 's  longing  eyes ! 
Would  you  choose  the  heap  of  sordid  dust, 
And  gloat  o'er  the  golden  pile? 
Or  bind  the  woman's  heart  to  your  own, 
And  thank  your  God  for  her  smile? 

Suppose    that    the    friends    on    whom   you've 

leaned 
In  days  of  sadness  and  mirth, 

[55] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 

Had  gathered  the  gold  from  the  ends  of  the 

world 

And  scorned  Love 's  deep,  infinite  worth ! 
Do  you  think  you'd  cling  to  the  kiss  and  the 

smile 

Of  the  tender,  Madonna-like  face? 
Or, — follow  the  crowd  to  the  altars  of  gold 
And  sacrifice  there  your  soul's  grace? 

Suppose  you  were  told  that  the  gold  would 

'   afford 

You  the  joys  that  fill  Life  with  zest, 
While  Sorrow  oft  followed  the  steps  of  the  few 
Who  knelt  at  the  shrine  of  the  Best ! — 
Would  you  lean  to  the  side  of  the  true,  longing 

heart 

And  choose  all  of  Love  with  its  Pain, — 
Or,  would  you  reach  out  for  the  comforts  of 

wealth 
And  strive  for  a  short-lived  fame  ? 

Suppose  that  the  gold  you  had  chosen  for  self, 

Would  crumble  away  in  your  hands, 

And  the  Love  you  had  scorned  would  glow  like 

the  sun 
That  scorches  the  hot  desert-sands ! 

[56] 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 

You  still  would  be  willing  to  take  your  one 

chance 

As  you  passed  the  world's  offers  right  by, 
And  choose  the  cheap  pile  of  the  Dust  they  call 

gold 
And  let  the  Love  perish  and  die!  !  !  !" 


[57] 


THE  SILENT  CHORD 


"You!" 

OD  took  a  bit  of  sun-touched  clay 
And  kissed  it  with  Earth's  Dew, 
And  lo !  A  soul  was  born  in  Time  — 
And  lo!     That  soul  was  You! 

And  then  He  placed  a  tiny  flame 

On  angels'  lips  above, 

And  whispered,  'Touch  the  waiting  soul 

Of  her  who  calls  for  Love." 

God's  Angels  took  the  holy  gift 
And  breathed  it  into  Thee, 
And  then,  one  day,  a  kiss  of  Thine 
Gave  all  that  Love  to  me!" 


[58] 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-42m-8,'49(B5573)444 


THE  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


PS    Dijapf  1  - 
3507   Silent  chord, 
D597s 


PS 

3507 

D597s 


A  000  920  296  1 


